A story

Damn Floris!

You should become a writer, seriously!

Thanks a bunch Arne, glad you're still reading it and enjoying it


Gaelus left Trista behind, deep in thought. It was clear to him that she believed him, and he had given her a lot to think about. He hadn't been surprised that Trista, or Glissandi for that matter, trusted him so easily. His kind had that impact on humans. On most living races really, if he thought about it. He closed the door quietly, not making a sound as to not disturb the Knight from her thoughts, and left. He took a deep breath and went for the Priestess' room. The last one he needed to visit, and give a proper lecture to about using violence in his house. He wasn't looking forward to it. Glissandi was a volatile mixture of surprisingly practical zealotry, bottomless ambition that she'd only pursue if it aided the Lord's cause, a lot of self control mixed with a lack of knowledge about how the world actually worked and strongly coloured by the Order's views, and a heck of a brain. If only she dared using it to look beyond what she was taught. Walking the few metres to reach her room, he pushed it open.


Glissandi had been waiting on him for hours now. She had been terrified at first, mixed with a bottomless awe she felt for the fact that she had been in the present of what was undoubtedly a being sent by the Lord Himself. The Mother Supreme could cast incredibly powerful healing spells that could bring even the most badly wounded Warrior back from the verge of death, but Gaelus had actually revived a dead body! Several at that! And without any obvious sign of exertion. He had pulled souls back from the beyond, into living bodies. There could be no clearer sign than that to her. So on one hand she had realised that her mission had been a success beyond her wildest dreams; she had found an Agent of the Lord, as strange as he might be, which would explain how much he knew, how much at ease he felt, and it made sense for him to hide away from the world at large, only appearing if the Lord's faithful needed him, or if the worthy found him. She had to be very wary of her ego growing out of control. The Lord's hand guided her and her group. That they had stumbled upon him was not an achievement of her own.
Yet on the other hand she had disappointed him. Broken one of his orders. He tolerated no violence and she had trod on that command. They had been Trolls, led by a Gnome, creatures of Evil who should not be tolerated, and should be feared by all the faithful. That had confused her at first, until she realised that an Agent of the Lord had no need to fear them. The Trolls were ants compared to him, and how could a Gnome hope to confuse and mislead a Holy Agent? Instead it was likely that Gaelus was using the forces of Evil to do his own bidding, which was obviously well within his power. It also explained how he possessed that strange energy she had never even heard of before, let alone encountered.

So she had waited. The moment she had regained her bearings, which had been within minutes as her glee over finally realising what Gaelus was overtook her blind fear that he had sown in her heart, she had knelt in front of the door, facing it, and waited in the Order's typical prostrating position to do penance in. Within minutes the uneasy position had started hurting. The muscles in her legs started aching, and her knees started begging for relieve. With a short brush of her well trained mind she had dismissed those feelings. The pain was part of the penance. She had committed a grave error and she had to atone for it. Minutes had become hours, and soon even the hours had started dragging on. The pain in her legs had become horrendous, she could feel the blood pooling in all the wrong places as it struggled to get past the bends, and while she had spells at her disposal that could alleviate the pain she didn't even think about using them. Even when she reached the point that her legs just stopped responding in total, having gone completely numb, she maintained the position. She was angry at herself for the relief she felt when that finally happened, and finally accessed her magic to make her feel it again. You could not atone for your sins if you didn't suffer to show that you were aware you had done wrong and were willing to make up for it.

When Gaelus opened the door she didn't notice it at first, too distracted by her prayer and the pain. Then she saw him standing there, through the gaps of her hair that had fallen over her face, her eyes still looking at the ground but seeing him in her peripheral vision. He looked annoyed. Very annoyed.
"Get up you idiot!" he called out to her.
She moved to obey. "Yes my lord," she replied. She moved herself upright and tried getting up, but her legs refused to budge. Gaelus was next to her in a second and pulled her up without effort, and she felt simultaneously happy that he helped her, and guilty that she could not do it on her own.
"Don't you dare to start lording me! I know what you're thinking and I am in no way affiliated with your Lord!" he told her off. She looked at his face and saw that he was giving her a very stern look and an annoyed frown. She wavered slightly, but then nodded. It was not her place to question the will or the word of a Holy Agent. As a Human she could not hope to understand him. It seemed he could read what she was thinking, for his scowl deepened. He lifted her up a bit more and unfolded her legs, causing the Priestess to yelp in pain, despite herself. He grumbled something she could not understand and he carried her to the bed, forcing her to lay down.
"I will be fine, please, you—" she started, but was cut off as Gaelus started forcefully kneading some life in her legs again, causing her to gasp for breath.
"You will shut up because any word you say is going to give me a headache at this point. I forgot that despite your supposed intelligence you're one heck of a blind zealot." He gave her an angry stare that made her wilt. He moved his fingers deftly across her legs and searched softly for the biggest knots. Then he closed them, causing her to gasp again. Unlike the previous massage, this one wasn't nearly as physically pleasant.
"I—" he said, pronouncing the word carefully and accompanying it with another squeeze.
"Am—" He squeezed down once more, in a different area, causing her to gasp as his fingers ignored any resistance her stiff muscles threw up.
"NOT—" he continued, throwing her a look that left the definition of annoyed behind and came closer to vicious than anything else.
"An angel!" he finished. His fingers closed so tightly around her leg that she veered up, her hands clutching his in a desperate attempt to somehow make him stop. He stopped pressing down but her hands remained on his. She could see her own eyes mirrored in his as she suddenly realised that she was very close to his face, surprised she hadn't headbutted him by accident. She could also read her own fear in his eyes, mixed thoroughly with adoration. She hadn't meant to do that, to veer up and try to stop him, much less squeal in pain, but her body had reacted on instinct.

He got up without a word, leaving the stunned Priestess to rub her painful legs. He seemed to consider leaving, then softly shook his head and turned back towards her.
"I do not serve your Lord, nor do I serve anyone else. I am a mortal being, just like you. I am merely someone who isn't Human, even if I may look like it. And I really hope that I'm getting through your thick skull, because if you keep staring at me with that blind, stupid adoration and zealous belief that I am someone sent by a random being that decides to live up in the sky as if he's a bloody dragon, then I might just decide to weld a helmet to your shoulders!" he grumbled at her. Glissandi looked away. He sighed. She obviously wasn't convinced and he feared that changing her mind would take an eternity of slow re-education, or a shock therapy by dragging her out in the world that wasn't under control of the Order. Which would include a lot of damage control as he was quite certain that if he left her alone she'd start shooting people full of holes again. He sighed again and made for the door.
"At least stop obeying my every word? Treat me as before, okay? And don't use violence again!"
Glissandi perked up at that. A bright, nearly childishly happy smile lit her up face as she outright beamed happiness at him. "Yes, my lo—"
"AND CUT THAT OUT!"

Egolian tapped his pipe out on the wooden railing of his platform, overseeing the scenery below. He felt fairly secure there, the glyphs inscribed all around him protecting him from most magical attacks, and the hatch that lead to the inner sanctum that were his rooms right behind him comforted him. Especially after everything he had witnessed. A small army of Trolls had been torn apart by two Humans of that despicable Order that his father always warned him about. Then Gaelus, a person... being... What the guy was Egolian did not know. He did know the bloke was a reliable trading partner. So his father had said. So his grandfather had said. So had a very long string of forefathers said. And since Gnomes tended to live a lot longer than Humans, that meant Gaelus obviously was not one of them. He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully as his eyes wandered from Troll to Troll, each of them looking confused, their arms put aside in neat bundles, campfires burning brightly and the scent of meat and stew reaching out to him, reminding him he hadn't eaten since the early morning. He dismissed the feeling of hunger.

The Trolls, and especially Lanosh, had been deeply impressed by Gaelus. A man who commanded absolute authority but wielded it rarely. He spoke their language fluently, despite the lack of lungs the size of a workshop's bellows to pronounce the correct vowels. Who possessed an impossible strength and yet did not flaunt it. And, the Gnome thought with an amused twinkle in his eyes, a man who healed the entirety of Lanosh's group without demanding payment, something that obviously had the big lout in a state of near panic. The bugger had a near-death experience that included his whole unit and he was worried about finances and his wife murdering him if the trip wasn't profitable. And Humans had the gall to think Trolls were violent savages.

He sent another cloud of smoke into the fresh evening air. His thoughts were interrupted when he caught a flash of motion. He nearly overlooked it, but his race always paid close attention to the tiniest details. Considering they were the ones who worked the most with technologies that would blow up in your face if you missed the smallest sign that something was malfunctioning, it was a trait partially acquired through evolution over the years. Gnomes that didn't pay attention did not tend to live long enough to make it into adulthood when experimenting.
Ah, there. Gaelus. Nearly invisible as always; on the few occasions he had dropped by to make a delivery the man always seemed to simply evade notice. The bugger seemed to do it on instinct as well, not even conscious of it. Puffing on his pipe again he watched the man approach the wagon. Not in a hurry or a rush, simply determined, moving with the air of a man who was pleasantly busy and had no time to waste. Personally he liked the mysterious loner in the mansion. He traded more than fairly and was always willing to help. Always polite, never judged, and had a mind that was sharp enough to shave with.


A loud scream echoed through the night. Egolian nearly fell off the platform laughing when he saw Lanosh jump several feet into the air when Gaelus patted him on the shoulder. Seeing a Troll get such a fright was absolutely priceless. And Gaelus actually looked apologetic! A few minutes passed filled with Gaelus apologising and Lanosh trying to assure him it was all right, that yes, his troops were fine, and was he sure he didn't want anything in exchange for healing, and other bits of conversation that made the Gnome really happy there was a railing on the platform or he feared he might have tumbled off laughing.

Then his laughter was cut short when Gaelus leaped on top of the platform, sending Egolian scrambling from the floor where he was laying, to standing upright into a proper position.
"Hi Egolian, hope you had a pleasant trip?" Gaelus asked, leaning back against the railing.
Egolian smiled. Few things disturbed the lad, and the things that did, or the people, didn't disturb him for long. "Journey was alright. Your feathery friend nearly knocked me off here though, but good thing he did. Your little friends would have been Barbast food otherwise. And your other friend didn't succeed in blowing my head off, so all in all, the journey was good," the Gnome replied, grinning broadly as he gestured with his pipe.
"Good to know. Things have been tense enough here, with that Firedrake appearing a-"
"You have a Firedrake lose here! And you made me drop by!" Egolian burst out.
"Yes, because it's immobilised and healing. I perforated his wing joint when it ambushed me while hunting. I wouldn't have called you this close if it hadn't been safe." The look he threw at the Gnome made it clear that he was insulted. He voiced it a moment later. "I've been doing business with your family for how many generations now? You ought to trust me a bit more than assuming I'd feed you to a beast for no reason."
"Maybe to get the stuff for free..." Egolian muttered. Then, more loudly, "and you can't blame me for being suspicious when the first thing that happened after I brought back the two girls was that your visitors tried to blow me friggin' head off and started slaughtering me escort! There be a bunch o' things wrong with they lasses heads and—"
"Egolian! Egolian! You're mixing languages again!" Gaelus remarked, grinning. The Gnome fell silent and looked embarrassed. It was shameful for a trader to be seen mixing languages. Especially to Gnomes who prided themselves on their knowledge.
"Anyway, I take it you brought everything?"
Egolian nodded, eager to switch subjects. "Aye, I did lad. Tell you though, your requests are always outrageous. And on such a cursed short notice too!" the Gnome replied, opening the hatch and disappearing into the bowels of the wagon. Gaelus remained outside. He would struggle just to fit through it, and he knew that he wouldn't have much more space inside.
"Magic stones! And that quality too! You're lucky I have suppliers all over because let me tell you lad these are downright impossible! The price I had to pay to acquire them was—"
"Outrageous, I know," Gaelus replied with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll compensate you properly for it. Within reason," he added, his voice hinting that the Gnome shouldn't try to scam him or there would be unpleasant consequences. It was the usual back and forth banter between the two though. It went back for generations. The Gnome would try to up the price and moan how difficult it was to get what he wanted, how expensive it all was, and Gaelus would smile, nod, and agree. And then warn them that if they tried to pinch him for pennies he'd pinch their cheeks until they confessed the proper price.

Egolian popped out of the hatch again holding a small bag of baubles, and carefully handed it over to Gaelus.
"Three dozen magic stones, highly condensed with a shelf life of three centuries with the usual drain rate. Reckon you're going to drain 'em a lot faster though."
"Of course." He took the bag and slid them into his pocket. "So, what price did you have in mind them? Currency, herbs, alloys..."
"Currency is nice and all that, but I was wondering if you had any of that metal left you gave me last time..."


A good while of pleasant bartering later, Gaelus retreated to his workshop and Egolian into his wagon, both satisfied.
Now he could finally lay the finishing touches to the armour and they could go out to take out that blasted Firedrake. Although he worried for the mental state of the people he was going to take.